


Think of a Pumpkin While I'm Gone

by Du_Hjarta_Skulblaka



Category: Homestuck, The Cat Lady (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Basically Rose being a sad sarcastic gay, F/F, Follows the plot of the game but with Homestuck characters, Gen, Major Spoilers, Rosemary in later chapters, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:43:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Du_Hjarta_Skulblaka/pseuds/Du_Hjarta_Skulblaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde is tired of her life and is surprised to learn that death isn't all it's cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think of a Pumpkin While I'm Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that I won't be writing everything that happens in the game, so being aware of the story before reading this will help. Also while it will be talking about death and suicide, my aim is to keep the tone sarcastic and not as dark and serious as in the game.
> 
> This is the first fic i've tried to write in a long time so please be patient with me, any feedback is appreciated!

Death was not quite as I had imagined it. For one, my ability to reach such a conclusion despite the presumable cessation of my higher and lower brain functions came as a surprise. Another thing was how rife my possibly immortal subconscious was with cliché imagery. Fields filled with aging crops? Dilapidated shacks silhouetted against a fading sunset? Really, i had thought myself capable of more subtlety than this. I quickly abandoned that particular hope upon finding myself extracting the key to my afterlife’s progress from the mouth of my own corpse.

 

    I wonder if I can be held uniquely accountable though for the wealth of morbid stereotypes that filled what i had assumed to be my own dreamworld, as it eventually became apparent that I was not alone in this depressing purgatory. After hours, years, or possibly seconds of wandering past various iterations of my own death, i stumbled upon a structure entirely out of place in my own mind; an opulent mansion coloured entirely in a horribly jarring shade of green. It’s door was missing any sort of bell or knocker, but was left unlocked. So of course, i entered. I am already dead, after all. What had i to lose?

 

    Crossing the threshold proved immediately disorientating. I found myself in a well furnished if atrociously decorated parlor room, finding that the doorway behind me now led to a long and gloomy hallway. Because of course, why would housing in the underworld confine itself to the Euclidian? No, what was the more disturbing was the appearance of what i could only assume to be my host.

 

“Hello, Rose Lalonde. I have been waiting for you, my dear girl.” Before me stood what one might mistake for a human being, were one entirely blind to any features above the neck. In place of a skull, the figure had what appeared to be some sort of polished white orb devoid of any indentation or orifice. The more one looked upon it, the less ot seemed to abide by physical laws and rather fade into an ominous void in reality. And yet, despite the obvious lack of eyes, mouth, or conformance to a sane world view, i felt certain this is what had addressed me in such a refined, if condescending and oddly echoing tone. True, the rest of it’s body seemed natural enough, garbed in a reasonably stylish white suit. Perhaps I do the being discredit to refer to it as anything other than a gentleman.

 

“I knew that you would turn up one fine day like this. This day, to be precise. Which i endeavour to always be.”

 

“Who...who are you?” I asked, my voice wavering more than i would care to admit. One tends to feel a little out of sorts when one’s suicide is interrupted by a bipedal cueball.

 

“I have so many names. It can be hard to pick one. Who do  _ you  _ think I am?”

 

“Well, given recent  circumstances my first guess would be some kind of bizarre embodiment of Satan come to toy with my sinfully departed soul. Failing some kind of drug induced hallucination or mental collapse, of course.”

 

“Come now Miss Lalonde. I know that you do not believe in anything so mundane as traditional human Judeo-Christian god, so why would you presume me to he the accompanying devil? I can assure you though my dear, I am quite real. Merely something else entirely. You may call me Doc Scratch. Now please, do take a seat and make yourself at home. I pride myself on being an  _ excellent  _ host.”

 

    I took the proffered seat upon a frankly tacky felt lined sofa. Whether he took this as his cue to begin monologuing or simply offered it by way of apology for his prior intent to do so, i will never care.

 

“You see my dear, i exist outside of your delicate mortal bounds of comprehension. I exist in a state of nigh complete omniscience that allows me to watch over your young planet. Not unlike a father figure, or perhaps a particularly well intentioned uncle. I do this with all of the good grace and decorum one in my position ought to have, with the sole intention of fulfilling my purpose and welcoming my master into existence here. In this way i am doom, but salvation also and am feared by most, but adored by select few. Yourself included, Miss Lalonde.” 

 

“I see somebody enjoys the sound of their own voice. Don’t flatter yourself.” His tone has a way of worming it’s way into my head and making my eyes ache, fast eroding my patience for his self aggrandizing spiel. “I haven’t the slightest idea who you are.”

 

“Oh, but that’s not quite true my dear.” My god, the smugness in that tone. “I’ve been around for quite a while. Keeping you company. I’m always there, you know. Long enough to know everything about you.”

 

“Wow, that’s pretty creepy.”

 

“No it’s not.”

 

“Yes, it really is.”

 

“No it’s not. I look upon you as a child in need of guidance. Or as a protégé. Which brings us to my reason for inviting you here. I don’t allow many guests, you know. Just like you, I like my solitude. But you my dear are special enough to make an exception.”

 

“Again, creepy.” I interject. I really was tiring of his voice.

 

“Again, no it’s not.” That infuriatingly smug tone never even wavers, does it? “You are my guest of honour and I have a task to offer you, Rose Lalonde. And rest assured, it would be quite foolish of you to refuse it. But i know you won’t.”

 

“My! How generous of you, placing such trust in the decision of a depressed and lonely woman! And what exactly might this offer be, pray tell?”

 

“You do not need to waste your human sarcasm on me, Miss Lalonde. I can promise that I plan on being nothing but genuine towards you. You see, I have observed you enough to understand how you feel. Understanding comes naturally when one is omniscient. I want to be your friend. perhaps your only friend. I want to help you. And so, I offer to give you back your happiness in exchange for one simple task.”

 

“And yet you still haven’t explained to me what that caveat is. For someone claiming to be my friend, you certainly seem to enjoy making me squirm.” Truth be told, this entire conversation was making me deeply uncomfortable. I had just taken my own life, does it really require further explanation that all I wanted now was to simply rot in peace?

 

“No, but i will explain now. I was merely informing you of your situation, as any gracious host should. What I have chosen you to do, my dear, is to go back. And to kill five people for me. Five people who are also special, like you. But not quite as special, and not in the same way.”

 

I allowed myself a short laugh of derision, though there was little feeling behind it. I refused to give my “host” the satisfaction of seeing how much the suggestion had shaken me. “Of course! Wanton murder is the path to happiness according to our fatherly protector. And who exactly are these unfortunate souls set to feel my obviously daunting wrath?”

 

“I know that you are feeling shaken. You don’t need to hide it.” Fuck. “I call these people parasites. They do not know each other but their timelines are tangled together. They represent flaws in an otherwise flawless pattern and I require them removed. They want to hurt and kill innocents, and so it is only polite of me to have them dealt with.”

 

“I see. And what makes you think that I am capable of this, exactly?”

 

“Do not be afraid. You will have an advantage over them. They do not know that you know. They will be drawn to you and you will find a new purpose in their removal.”

 

“I fail to see how any of those will restore my happiness as you claimed. A lesser mind may suspect that you are simply a poor manipulator.”

 

“Please. I am ak excellent manipulator. Look at it another way. I know that you have dreams of heroism that you would never dream of sharing with anyone else. By killing these parasites you would be saving their future victims from great suffering, as well as yourself.”

 

    I gave a sigh of exasperation, my patience at an end, and rubbed  my temples in an effort to combat the headache his incessant voice had inspired. Just how in the hell could the dead have headaches? “I’m not a damned hero though! I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I don’t see the point in life and every day I am reminded by those who do that i am a broken failure. What good could I possibly-”

 

“That is exactly why i chose you.” he interrupted. “There is a darkness inside you Miss Lalonde, and an anger that few mortals know. I understand. You are not the only one who longs for the end of their life, my dear. We are rather alike, believe it or not. I promise you that when you complete your task, you will never again know feelings like that. And I can assure you, i  _ never  _ lie.”

 

    What fight i had left seemed to shrivel and die inside me. Truly, could returning to life be that much worse than being trapped in a seemingly endless exchange with this egomaniac? “...Fine. Whatever. I’ll do it. I doubt i’ll be of that much use to you anyway. From the sounds of it one of these so called parasites will kill me first.” here’s hoping.

 

“Oh, but that won’t be a problem my dear. You see, I have prepared a gift for you. Immortality. Immortality is the only gift a truly excellent host should ever offer in these circumstances.”

 

    I stared incredulously at his naturally blank expression. Rather suddenly, it seemed as though the absurdity of of the situation had surpassed what I was prepared to ignore. Again a laugh clawed it’s way out of my throat, but this one of defeat and certainly of dubious sanity. “Sure. What the hell. This probably isn’t even real, is it? This is all one big fucking trip. Sure, i’ll kill whoever you want. Does that mean i can leave now?”

 

“But of course.” It could have been my imagination, but i could have sworn his tone changed ever so slightly. A note of victory perhaps, or one of malice. “There is but one thing you must do. Please, follow me.”

 

    Numbly, I rose and followed him out of the room. The corridor was longer than It should have been, a dull green expanse of walls unmarked but for multitudes of ticking clocks. Without my realisation, we came to a halt in a room filled with the insufferable timepieces and a long, metallic object was pressed into my hands. Scratch gestured to a single clock resting on a table before me and without thinking i hefted the crobar, bringing it down and smashing it to pieces. At once my vision was fading and I just barely made out a faint “Farewell, my dear.” before I was lost in an ocean of oppressive black.

 

_ Tick. _

_ Tock. _


End file.
